


Submission

by Miko no da (Miko)



Series: Sinners & Saints [7]
Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-01-01
Updated: 2001-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-05 05:56:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3108572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miko/pseuds/Miko%20no%20da
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Youji is concerned about the strange behaviour Omi's been displaying.</p><p>(Posting OLD fics from my defunct website)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Submission

Youji stumbled up the stairs to the balcony that led to the apartments, cursing himself, cursing his date, and cursing the world in general. His mind was swimming fuzzily, not quite drunk but getting there fast. Damn the girl for suggesting a few drinks before going home, anyway. And damn him for agreeing. He knew better.

Not to say that drinking wasn't one of his many vices. It was. Or rather, it had been. Until six months ago. Six months ago, when a certain blue-eyed blond had shown up in his bed late one night...

Cursing aloud, he smacked the side of his head to dislodge the image and staggered to his door. Fumbling for his keys, he finally succeeded in getting the right key into the lock and opened the door. Slamming it behind him, he kicked off his shoes, threw his coat over the back of the couch, and headed for his liquor cabinet.

Ever since that night, the night _he_ had turned Youji's world upside down, the lanky playboy had been unable to think of anything else. It haunted his dreams, his nightmares, and his every waking moment. Most of the time, he could control it, keeping it safely locked away in the back of his mind where he didn't have to think about it. But in sleep - or when he'd had any alcohol at all - the memory returned to plague him. And once that happened, the only cure was to get so miserably drunk that he couldn't remember his own name, let alone events from half a year ago.

_"Youji..." His huge blue eyes were even larger than normal, shimmering with hope and lust. Creamy skin slid over satin and silk sheets, inviting fingers to touch. "Youji, please..."_

Youji swore again and poured himself a double shot of whiskey. Tilting his head back, he downed the alcohol straight, welcoming the burn in his throat and stomach, the numbness that slowly spread through his body. Now he just had to wait for it to reach his brain...

_"What are you doing here?" Incredulous voice._

_"I... I want you to be my first. Please?"_

A second shot followed the first, and his head began to swim. In the first few weeks, he'd spent far too much of his time doing this, trying to get his mind off the image of smooth, silken flesh and pleading blue eyes. Thankfully he'd quickly realized the foolishness of that course of action - or rather, had it pointed out to him when he'd nearly gotten Ken killed on a mission due to his lack of alertness. Since then, it had only been bad enough to drive him to the bottom of a bottle a few times.

_"You know more than any of the others. You've been with so many people, tried so many things... I can't even imagine. Teach me, please? I want... no, I need to learn!"_

Apparently tonight was going to be one of those times. Staring at his third - or was it his fourth now? - shot, he contemplated the way the light reflected from the gentle amber colour of the whiskey in its cut-glass bottle.

_Bare skin, shimmering in the candle light - he'd set this up well, Youji had to admit. He'd obviously been preparing for this for a while. This wasn't a spur of the moment decision._

_He slid forward, off the bed, allowing himself to be exposed completely. Youji couldn't help but draw in a sharp breath - he was perfect, flawless chest leading to firm stomach leading to..._

_"Youji..." the sound of his name on those strawberry lips, breathy and aching, one pale hand reaching out towards where he was frozen in the doorway..._

Gods, would it never leave him? He'd slept with dozens of women since then; hell, he'd even slept with some men, hoping the shock of it would drive the memory - and the longing - out of his system. None of them had done anything to remove the sweet ache under his skin. None had purged the memory from his dreams.

_"What do you think you're doing?" Youji's voice came out more harshly than he'd intended. Confusion and the first stirrings of hurt blossomed in the cherubic features._

_"Youji..."_

_"I don't sleep with boys," Youji continued, the words falling from his lips without checking with his brain first. Just as well - his mind was still in a frozen state of shock. "And I certainly don't sleep with children."_

_"Youji!" Definite hurt now, tears welling up in the crystal blue eyes and sliding artlessly down his cheeks. Only on someone normally so cheerful could hurt make such an immediate impact, punching you in the gut and burning the expression into your mind. "I..."_

_"Get out." At this point, it was all he could do to maintain his dignity. Part of him wanted to take it back, to gather the boy into his arms and promise never to cause that expression again, but a larger part was utterly terrified of the unexpected emotions rampaging through him. "Get out, and don't ever try anything like this again."_

_More tears, followed quickly by harshly suppressed sobs. Youji steeled himself against their power, trying not to let the hurt pierce his own heart. Golden skin brushing against him as the boy fled the room, not even caring for his nakedness as he bolted for the front door, hands over his mouth to stifle the cries of pain._

"Omi..." Youji let his head fall to the kitchen table, uncaring that he knocked the shot glass over to shatter on the floor. Desperately, he tried to convince himself that he'd done the right thing, as he did every time the memories came to him.

"He was barely seventeen," he defended himself to the empty room, his words slurring as the massive amount of alcohol hit his system all at once. "He didn't know what he was asking. His first should be with someone he loves, who loves him. Someone he has things in common with." Forcing himself to his feet, he staggered out to the couch, not even noticing the sharp slivers of glass that lodged in his foot as he passed the wreck of the shot glass.

"He should have gone to Ken," he mumbled, trying to decide which of the three couches he could see was the one he should pass out on. "Yeah, Ken. They'd have gotten along well." This, of course, was ignoring the fact that Ken had been involved with that girl - Yukiro? Yurika? Something like that - at the time. Going on a hunch, he picked the middle couch, letting his body slump forward.

"Itai!" Wrong choice... now he was on the floor. Oh, well... he didn't have the energy to lift himself up again, and it wouldn't be the first time he'd slept on the floor.

"Omi..." The tears in those expressive eyes would haunt him until the end of his days, he was sure. "Gomen..."

At last, the oblivion he'd been seeking overcame him, freeing his mind from the endless torment and releasing him to sleep.

 

* * *

The banging on his door the next morning barely registered, subsumed as it was by the pounding in his head. When it was joined by a loud voice shouting his name, Youji groaned and dragged himself to consciousness.

"Wha..." Lifting his head, he stared about him, confused by the sight of the legs of the coffee table and the bottom of his couch. "Oh, right." Sitting up - slowly - he clutched his head in his hands.

The doorknob rattled and turned, the heavy metal front door slowly swinging open. "Youji-kun? Daijoubu ka? Youji-kun?" Omi stuck his head around the door, blue eyes scanning the room, filled with worry.

"Shit," Youji replied, trying to keep his skull from flying apart. Of all the people to come looking for him, it HAD to be Omi.

"Youji-kun!" Omi stared at him, wide-eyed, and darted forward to help support him. "Are you okay? What happened?" He drew back as he reached his older teammate, the stench of alcohol clear on Youji's breath. He made a disapproving face. "Youji-kun! You got drunk again last night, didn't you?"

"So what if I did?" Youji asked, batting Omi's hands away from his shoulders. Grabbing the arm of the couch for support, he hauled himself to his feet. His breath hissed in through his teeth as a sharp stabbing pain made itself known in his foot. "Itai!"

"Nani?" Omi's eyes were large with concern. Putting a gentle hand on Youji's chest, he shoved the bigger man down onto the couch. "Youji-kun! Your foot is bleeding!" He eased the sock off, gently prying loose the areas where the thick cotton was stuck to his skin with blood.

Tsking over the glass splinters embedded deep in his sole, Omi jumped up and ran to the bathroom, coming back with a pair of tweezers. Lower lip gripped between his teeth in concentration, he set to work picking the slivers out. "Why do you do this to yourself, Youji-kun?"

Because I can't forget the way you looked naked in the candlelight, was the first thing that popped into Youji's mind. Thankfully, for once his brain was operating ahead of his mouth. "Hey, give me a break!" he said instead. "It's been nearly a month since the last time." He winced again as Omi drew out a particularly large splinter.

Omi shook his head, frowning. "Still. You know we have a mission tonight! Aya-kun will kill you if he finds out you were drinking the night before a mission. And on a night when you had morning shift the next day, too."

Youji's eyes widened. "Oh, shit! How late am I?"

"You're not - yet. When I realized I hadn't heard you moving in your apartment, I figured I'd better come wake you up before I went to school," Omi replied. Picking up the plate he'd been using to hold the glass he removed, he stood. "There, all done. I'll make you something to help with the hangover while you shower and get cleaned up, but then you'd better get downstairs quickly!"

Youji couldn't help but be amazed at the boy's willingness to forgive him any transgression. He still couldn't get over the way that Omi acted as though nothing had happened that night. After a few tense days where they wouldn't even look at each other, much less speak to one another, Omi had done a miraculous turn-around to his normal, cheerful self. There were times when Youji wondered if he hadn't dreamed the whole encounter.

Then he would catch the momentary hurt flashing in the pure blue eyes when Youji made some off-hand comment about the underage girls, or teased Omi about looking at porn on the net. He would hear the tiny catch in the boy's breath when Ken laughingly asked him if he'd found a girlfriend yet. He would see the wistful look in the sweet expression when Omi stared at him when he thought no one else was looking. And he knew he hadn't imagined it.

Lately, though... things had changed. In the last few weeks, after settling down from the chaos left behind by Esstet's attempt to resurrect their godling in Aya-chan's body, those subtle clues had been missing. Omi was back to treating Youji the way he treated anyone else - someone to be sweetly polite to, concerned over as he was concerned about any of his friends, and nothing more. Youji was irked to find that the treatment annoyed him.

But there was more... Omi had been disappearing on a disturbingly regular basis. He would go to school, work his shift in the shop - and take off the moment the shop closed, unless there was a mission. It was beginning to remind Youji of a combination of his own behaviour and the way Aya had been when he went to visit his sister in the hospital. When asked where he spent his time, the youngest member of Weiss inevitably shrugged and replied 'with friends', and changed the subject.

It was starting to concern him - and he wasn't the only one. Ken had taken him aside privately once to ask if he knew where Omi was going. Youji had only been able to shrug helplessly and reply that he'd thought Ken would know. Ken had shaken his head in frustration, and told him that Omi hadn't spoken to him outside of shop- or mission-related matters in weeks. Likewise, Aya hadn't been able to shed any light on the subject when they'd asked him.

Whatever it was, it wasn't affecting his performance, so they had reluctantly agreed not to push him until he felt comfortable coming to them. It was feasible that he was only trying to escape the pressures of their nighttime life by spending as much time as possible with people unconnected to it. Then, too, he was growing up - almost eighteen, and only one semester left before he was finished high school for good. It was only natural that he'd want to spend more time away from home at that age.

But Youji had a nagging feeling that there was more to it than that - far more. It wasn't anything he could put his finger on; Omi was his normal sweet enthusiastic self when around his teammates, and his schoolwork certainly hadn't been suffering. If anything, he'd gotten better at ferreting out mission information. But he just couldn't shake the feeling that the kid had gotten mixed up in something. There was just something about the look in his eyes when he called over his shoulder that he was going out, and they weren't to wait up for him...

He stepped out of the shower and towelled himself off quickly, knowing his time was short. Scrambling into the first clean jeans and shirt he came across, he hastily made his way to the kitchen.

Omi turned to greet him, a foul-looking concoction in a glass in one hand. Youji grimaced at the sight of it, but grabbed the glass and forced it down in one long gulp. Shuddering - it tasted horrible, and he'd never had the guts to ask Omi what was actually IN it - he leaned against the wall and waited for it to kick in.

It only took a minute - then the pounding in his head began to subside, and his stomach decided that it might just stay in one place for a while. Whatever it was, it never failed to work, and days like today he was ready to kiss the kid's feet for knowing the recipe, and being willing to share.

"I made you some eggs and toast," Omi said, shoving a plate at him. "You'd better eat fast - you've only got five minutes before Aya-kun will be looking for you."

"Thanks," Youji mumbled, shoving a bite into his mouth and chewing quickly. The egg was poached and on the toast, just the way he liked it. Snagging the glass of orange juice that was sitting on his counter, he took a long drink.

Omi shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. Youji had to forcibly tear his gaze away from staring at the boy's mouth, turning his attention to his plate. "The things I do for you, Youji-kun..." he said, half-chiding and half-teasing. "And don't forget, you're working a full shift today! You traded Ken-kun this afternoon to get last night off."

Youji cursed through a mouthful of egg. He'd forgotten about that. Dammit, it wasn't fair that he'd have to pay for a date that had gone THAT badly! It wasn't time off if he was miserable, right? "Are you working today, bishounen?"

Omi shook his head. "Nope. Aya-kun was scheduled for a full shift as well. Today's my day off - and my last day of school for the semester. Boy, I'm looking forward to this break! And no," he headed off the question before Youji could ask it, "I won't trade you. I've got plans for after school. I'm not even coming back to the shop. Don't worry, I'll be back in time for the mission."

Youji sighed. Lately Omi hadn't been willing to trade any of his days off, claiming that he usually made plans with his friends ahead of time and didn't like cancelling them. It was a reasonable enough excuse - except Youji had recently realized that he'd never actually met any of these supposed 'friends' of Omi's. They never came by the shop - he always went to meet them. And then, of course, there was the issue of his reluctance to discuss them.

As Omi turned to clean up the dishes he'd dirtied, Youji caught sight of a flash of silver and black at his throat. Raising an eyebrow, he queried, "What's that?"

"What's what?" Omi blinked at him, pausing with one hand plunged into the soapy water, and the other holding the frying pan he'd used for the eggs.

"That. Around your neck." Looking closer, he saw that it was a slender black choker - leather, if he wasn't mistaken - with an elaborate silver design at the front. There were so many twists and twirls it was hard to be sure, but he almost thought it was an English 'S'.

Was Omi blushing slightly? He turned back to the sink too quickly for Youji to be sure. "Nothing special," he replied. His tone was casual - almost too casual. Or was he just being paranoid? "It's a new fad around school. I kind of like it - feels neat at my throat."

Youji knew he hadn't seen any of the girls who frequented the shop wearing any such thing. Since when were jewellery fads limited to the boys in a school? Especially something that delicate looking. Only someone as androgynous as Omi could pull something like that off without looking silly, and most boys weren't secure enough in their masculinity to try.

What's more, he was certain he'd seen something similar before. Wracking his brain for where he could possibly have seen something like it, he absently finished his toast and handed the plate to Omi, who rinsed it quickly.

"There! You'd better get down to the shop, Youji-kun. You've got about thirty seconds before you're late. I'll see you tonight!" Omi drained the sink and trotted over to the door, where he'd apparently dropped his books and helmet. Before Youji could say anything, he'd disappeared through the door, and he could hear the clattering of footsteps on the stairs to the garage.

Frowning, he made his way in the opposite direction, heading to the flower shop. The image of the slim leather collar just wouldn't leave his mind. Where had he seen it before?

 

* * *

As usual when he was trying hard to remember something, it didn't come to him until he'd finally turned his attention to something else, and forgotten that he'd been trying to remember it. This time he was in the middle of cutting the stems of several roses for Aya to place in an elaborate wedding arrangement when it hit him.

"Bondage collars!" He exclaimed aloud, unthinking. Then he blushed and glanced around, glad that no one was in the shop to hear him except Aya and Ken, who had dropped by to bring them both lunch.

The red-head raised one sliver-thin brow at him, expression mildly amused. "Excuse me?"

Youji shook his head. "Have you seen that little choker Omi was wearing this morning?"

Aya nodded, graceful fingers deftly placing another flower in the arrangement. "Ah. He came home with it late last night."

"I asked him about it," Ken put in, nibbling on one of the nikuman. "He said it was something all of his friends were wearing."

"I'll just bet!" Youji replied, eyes wide. "I finally remembered what it reminded me of. Bondage collars! Submissives wear them, with the sigil of their master, so people will know who they belong to. Each dominant has a different design for the collar."

Now Aya was staring at him. "Do I want to know how you know that?" he asked mildly. Youji flushed a little brighter, and ducked his head, suddenly vastly interested in the process of cutting the flowers.

"Hey, I'll try anything once," was his mumbled answer. Aya shook his head.

"I don't even want to know which you were," Ken said, and Youji swatted at him in irritation.

"None of your business," he replied, fighting with his blush.

"But you think Omi's wearing one? Come on! Omi wouldn't get into that sort of thing! Would he?" Ken didn't sound entirely certain of his own reassurances. Youji shrugged, but it was Aya who answered.

"Omi has a naturally curious nature," he said, purple eyes narrowed in thought. "And we've already all agreed that he's been hiding something. It's possible he could have become involved in such activities. It would explain a lot."

"But... he's too young to get into any of the clubs," Youji said, frowning. "And they're all pretty underground anyway - you can't get in without an invitation from an established member. Don't ask," he warned Ken, who'd opened his mouth, eyes bright. The ex-soccer player shrugged and grinned, a wink indicating that he wasn't going to let such a prime opportunity to tease the playboy slip through his fingers so easily.

"One of his friends could have introduced him to it," he said instead, taking another bite of the pastry. "We have no idea how old THEY are," he mumbled through the mouthful of food.

"Kenken, you're such a slob," Youji teased him, clipping the stems of a few stephanotises to add to the arrangement. "But you're right. And that's the most likely explanation. Still... they're usually really careful about underage people. They tend to get raided on a regular basis, so they're fanatic about carding and checking identities. At least..." He frowned again. "All the respectable ones are."

Ken snorted. "Youji... this is Omi we're talking about. Tokyo's best hacker? He could fake an ID and make it stick, no problem. He's done it before, for missions."

"That doesn't answer the question of WHY he is involved in such things," Aya interjected. "Or why he has been hiding it from us."

"Are you kidding me?" Youji gave him an incredulous look. "Aya... why WOULDN'T he hide something like that from us? It's not something people run around advertising, after all. As for why he got involved..." He shrugged. "You said it yourself. He's growing up - he's bound to be curious about this sort of thing, any seventeen-year-old would be. So given an opportunity, why not?" He guiltily shrugged off the memory of Omi begging him to teach him, take him. As far as he knew, Omi had never mentioned the encounter to either of the other Weiss members, and he wasn't about to bring it up now.

They were all silent for a long moment, thinking it over in their own fashions. "So," Ken finally said slowly, "What you're saying is, Omi's gotten involved in the BDSM crowd, and he's a submissive. And someone's claimed him?"

Youji nodded. "Essentially."

"Well... what are we going to do about it?"

Aya shook his head. "Nothing. We have no right to get involved. It's his choice. He may be technically underage, but with everything he's seen and gone through in his life, he's more than capable of making that sort of choice for himself. If and when he comes to one of us with it, or if it becomes a problem, then we will be able to decide what to do."

"Hard as it is for ordinary people to believe, some submissives genuinely LIKE being that way," Youji added helplessly. "Omi didn't strike me as the type, but then a lot of subs don't seem that way in their every day lives. If he's enjoying himself... who're we to tell him it's wrong?"

Ken was silent, the frown on his face indicating he wasn't entirely happy with the situation, but he didn't have any argument to that. Youji knew how he felt. He knew better than either of the others what could be involved in being a sub, and if Omi was in deep enough to be openly wearing a collar, he was most likely involved in every aspect of the culture. Briefly, Youji wondered if he allowed his dom to hurt him as well as control him, but he shoved the thought away. As he'd said, there was nothing they could do about it.

He didn't even allow himself to think that it was something he might have prevented, had he been brave enough to accept a blue-eyed angel's plea...

 

* * *

They barely saw Omi over the next few weeks, as he seemed determined to spend as little time with his fellow assassins as possible. There had been no missions, since they had just finished a major take down and Kritiker had wanted to give them a bit of a rest. He worked his shifts in the shop with a distracted air, and was visibly impatient for each shift to end.

Twice, Youji had awoken in the early hours of the morning to hear stumbling footsteps in the corridor, and both times when he'd risen to peek out of his door, he'd seen Omi leaning against his doorjamb wearily as his hands fumbled with the keys to his apartment. The rest of the time, he never came home at all.

The playboy would almost have suspected his younger friend of having become mixed up with drugs, if it weren't that when he WAS around Omi was his usual bright-eyed, chipper self, albeit withdrawn and reluctant to speak of his activities. He exhibited none of the typical symptoms of drug abuse, for which Youji was grateful. Even more reassuring, he had yet to show any sign of unusual injuries, so presumably his dom wasn't hurting him, or at least not badly.

And any injuries would certainly have shown - the boy seemed to be in an undeclared competition with Youji himself to see who could bare the most skin and still remain legal. In the deepest heat of summer Omi had never worn such revealing clothing - in the midst of winter, it was very odd indeed. It had been a mostly gradual change in the boy's wardrobe, so gradual that Youji hadn't really noticed it until he overheard one of the fangirls commenting on Omi's outfit one day, and he realized just HOW revealing the younger assassin's attire had become.

And still, nothing he or the others could say would cause the boy to reveal anything about his friends or what he did when away from the shop. Youji was now beyond convinced that the choker was a bondage collar - if he'd had any doubts, the sight of Omi trying to clean the blood from it while still around his neck after that last mission had erased them. There was no reason for him to be so fanatical about not taking it off… unless he'd been ordered not to do so by the person who'd given it to him.

But there was nothing he or the others could do about it. As Aya had said, Omi was mature enough to make such a decision for himself - and if he didn't want to talk to his teammates about it, well, that was his prerogative. Youji could only seethe in his frustration, and do his best to suppress the nagging guilt that haunted him.

When the next mission came, Youji was glad to see it was a relatively simple assignment that required no research on their parts. Get in, get the target, destroy the shipment of weapons the man was importing for resale to a group of fanatic revolutionaries in South America, and get out.

He and Omi had been paired up and sent after the main target, while Aya and Ken dealt with the weapons. The atmosphere between them was somewhat strained, but Youji was chagrined to realize that it was mostly his fault. Omi was his normal professional self, completely focussed on the mission and the task at hand. Youji was the one who was edgy and distracted, spending more time worrying about Omi and his secrets than the mission. Finally, Omi had to snap impatiently at him to concentrate, as their target came into sight.

The young hacker raised his crossbow and sighted along the bolt carefully, aiming to kill with the first shot. Youji unravelled a foot or so of his wire, ready to dart in as backup in case the shot somehow missed. He doubted it - he'd never met anyone who was as good a shot as Omi.

The bolt sang through the air with a keening whine, and their target spun to face them, shock clear on his face. Youji cheered inwardly as he saw that the arrow was aimed true - it would strike the man directly over his heart.

Or rather, it would have… except that apparently the laws of gravity had been dispelled for the night, as the bolt veered impossibly off to one side to embed itself in the wall. Omi's eyes were wide with astonishment as he stared at the bolt in disbelief, glancing down at the crossbow several times as if he thought the weapon itself might be responsible.

"What the…" Youji never finished the sentence, as a too-familiar form appeared from the darkness behind their target.

"Not tonight, I think, Weiss," Crawford informed them with his clipped American accent. Nagi emerged from the corridor behind him, eyes concentrating steadily on Omi's hands, where several darts had appeared. They both knew it would be a futile gesture to launch them when the telekinetic could bat them out of the air without breaking a sweat. Youji swore.

It wasn't the first time they'd clashed with Schwartz since the fall of Esstet, but the two groups had come to a sort of uneasy truce. They battled when their paths crossed, but neither side went out of their way to seek out the other, for any reason. Youji suspected that Crawford allowed Weiss to continue unmolested mainly because the arrogant American found them amusing.

Tonight they seemed to have caught the psychics at least a little by surprise - neither was wearing their customary outfits. Crawford was in pressed slacks and a crew neck sweater instead of a business suit, and Nagi wore a plain t-shirt and jeans in place of his ever-present school uniform. In an odd way, that pleased Youji, though he was sure Schuldig would have found the thought amusing were he there to pick Youji's mind.

Over the headsets both he and Omi wore, Youji could hear swearing in Ken's familiar voice. "Balinese, Bombay! We've got Schwartz here, we're bailing!"

"Here as well," Omi replied tightly, knuckles white around his darts. Their target was cowering behind his bodyguards, too scared or too stupid to take his opportunity and make a break for it. Nagi moved forward a bit more, providing the man a slight bit of cover as well as clearly stating that he would not allow any physical attack to get by him.

"Pull out," Aya ordered, as expected. With Kritiker's resources at an all time low, the Weiss team had standing orders not to engage Schwartz unless absolutely necessary. This target could be hit at another time, though it galled them all to have to admit defeat for any reason.

Youji and Omi slowly backed down the hall, eyes never leaving their counter-parts'. Crawford smirked at them, crossing his arms and saying nothing, though his superior posture spoke volumes. Nagi merely watched them with flat dark eyes, ready and waiting for anything they might try. As usual, the Schwartz psychics allowed them to escape unharmed, so long as the white hunters made no attacks against the person they were guarding.

They emerged from the building to see Ken and Aya several feet away, engaged in battle with Farfarello, while Schuldig looked on in amusement. The Irishman was bleeding from several wounds, none of them serious. The look on his face was one of pleasure and excitement, but he had not yet managed to score against either Weiss member.

Abruptly, Schuldig straightened from where he was leaning negligently against the wall, gesturing at his teammate. "Farf!" He called, voice a lazy drawl as always. "Let's go. Playtime's over."

With one last swipe at Ken, the scarred man twisted and bolted for the German's side, and both vanished together into the darkness. Ken was left panting, resting his hands on his thighs for support, while Aya sheathed his sword in a vicious movement. "I don't suppose you got the target before they showed up?" he asked, his icy voice holding no real hope.

Omi shook his head, scowling. "No. Nagi got my bolt before it reached him. But…" He smiled slowly, and withdrew a slim black case from within his jacket. "They seem to have missed the explosives I set." Flipping up the lid of the case, he pressed the button within, and the ground was rocked with explosions.

Aya nodded, partially mollified. With a gesture, he commanded them away from the scene, and they made their way back to where their vehicles were hidden.

Youji couldn't take his eyes off Omi's back, his mind in turmoil. The glint of silver from the choker's fastener held him fascinated, a dozen images and questions flitting through his head, gone before they were fully formed.

Revealed for the first time by the unusually low neck of his shirt, an identical collar had rested against Nagi's pale throat.

 

* * *

Youji eyed his date with some trepidation. When she'd said she wanted to take him 'someplace special', he'd envisioned a nice, quiet little restaurant, a place with a spectacular view, or even a particularly happening nightclub. Not this.

'This' was a tiny little door at the ground floor of a non-descript warehouse. Unless you were looking for it - and knew the code - the sign proclaiming this to be a BDSM club was indistinguishable from the rest of the graffiti adorning the walls. His date was currently negotiating with the bouncer through the stereotypical slit in the door.

Briefly, he debated backing out, claiming a prior engagement that he'd just remembered, or even just admitting that he wasn't comfortable with this scene. But his pride was stung by the very thought - he was Kudou Youji, lady's man and master assassin. He could handle a little kinky stuff. Hell, he'd BEEN in a place very like this at one point in his life.

And riding somewhere in the back of his mind was the thought that someone here might very well know Omi, and know who the boy had gotten involved with. It was a chance too good to pass up. If Omi's dom was who Youji was beginning to suspect it was - the boy was in a world of trouble, far more than they had imagined.

Having apparently gained approval from the door guard, his date led him through the now open door. The atmosphere of the club was a physical thing, striking him the moment he'd cleared the entranceway. The scent of sweat, blood, and sex hung heavy and thick in the air, as did the cries and whimpers of the players.

"Put this on," Suzuna instructed him, handing him a little wrist bracelet. "This will tell people that you're not involved, and don't want to be. If you DO want to join in on something…" she grinned at him. "Feel free to take it off. Are you familiar with the rules?"

Youji nodded shortly, summing them up to reassure her that he did in fact know the general etiquette of such a place. "Don't interrupt the scenes. Don't play with people's toys. Don't touch anything or anybody without permission." He snapped the band into place on his right wrist, instinctively leaving the left free in case he needed quick access to the wire in his watch. Not that he expected to, but it never hurt to be careful.

"You've been to places like this before, ne?" Suzuna asked him, eyes sparkling. "Good. I was half afraid I'd scare you off." Turning away from him, she made her way towards the crowded bar at the far side of the room, not waiting for his answer. He followed her, suppressing a wince as a woman with multiple body piercings in some very painful looking places wandered by.

Once they had drinks securely in hand, she led him towards the main room, separated from the bar area by several beaded floor-to-ceiling curtains. "There's usually a show of some kind out here," she said quietly as they approached the edge of the crowd. "It can be really interesting. Just relax, no one here will do anything to you so long as you're wearing that bracelet."

Youji forced himself to take a deep breath, and concentrated on his goal. Find out about Omi. He hadn't even seen the boy since the mission the night before, since Omi hadn't been scheduled to work in the shop again until the next day. The date was already a total loss - if Suzuna was deep enough into the community to know about the existence of this kind of place, she really wasn't his type. Not to say that he hadn't enjoyed his foray into BDSM… he had just decided that it wasn't something that appealed to him.

"Oooh, look!" Suzuna squealed softly, tugging him forward. "The German's here. Oh, he's so good! His control over his pets is incredible… it's like they're reading his mind or something!"

'German' and 'mind-reading' in combination meant only one thing to the Weiss assassin - Schuldig. Using his unusual height to peer over most of the crowd, he searched for the center of the activity.

Sure enough, a white spotlight sparked flames off the vibrant orange hair of the tall gaijin in the middle of the room. Schuldig was dressed entirely in leather, black with forest green highlights. There was a small whip coiled and hanging from his belt, and Youji could see the glint of light off metal at the tips of his fingers. The German telepath was standing with his back to Youji, head thrown back and arms outstretched to his sides, as though reaching for something.

Following the direction one arm pointed, Youji saw that the crowd had parted into a sort of alley, allowing someone to make their way through. In moments, Nagi appeared into the cleared area around Schuldig, slinking forward on all fours in an impossibly graceful motion. Humans just weren't meant to be able to move like that, but somehow he was managing it.

The telekinetic was also dressed in black, but there wasn't nearly as much material on him as there was on his Master. Tight leather straps criss-crossed his chest and ran down his sides, leaving his back exposed to the harsh lights. A garter belt graced his slender waist, more leather running down smooth thighs to hold up delicate-looking fishnet stockings. It should have looked silly and feminine, but instead it was deeply erotic. As a final touch, a sort of leather harness was wound over his thighs and buttocks, providing scant coverage for his more private areas.

Almost afraid of what he would see, Youji craned his neck to the other side. Moving in perfect synchrony with Nagi, Omi crawled forward, motion equally graceful. His outfit was absolutely identical to the other boy's, save that the leather was a sparkling white. On his face was a look of adoration and worship, as he kept his eyes fixed on Schuldig's outstretched hand.

Reaching the telepath, the two boys circled around him, staying exactly opposite one another, until their heads came to rest directly beneath the German's hands, back where they'd started. The fiery head tilted forward, hands coming down to stroke the boys' hair in a gentle caress. In a single motion, the two reared up until they were kneeling, hands at their sides and identical looks of pleasure/pain on their faces. Abruptly, Youji realized that the harnesses provided more than just coverage - from their expressions, they most likely had dildos penetrating them, causing exquisite agony when they sat upright.

Youji could feel the strangled scream building deep in his throat, and though he knew it was probably not the smartest thing to do, he let it free. "Omi!" Beside him, Suzuna stared at him in shock.

The lithe blond jerked his head around, eyes wide and darting over the crowd, seeking the source of the familiar voice calling his name. They settled on Youji as the tall man forced his way to the front of the crowd, and filled with something akin to panic.

"Youji-kun!" Omi's voice was hoarse and strained, and his hands came up to clutch at the slick leather of Schuldig's pant leg. "Wh-what are you DOING here?"

"What am I doing here?" Youji repeated incredulously. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?" His eyes locked with the telepath's as Schuldig twisted around to face him, hands stroking through the boys' hair soothingly. Five feet from the leather-clad trio, on the edge of the cleared area, he stopped to stand with his legs apart, hands clenched at his sides.

Omi pressed himself against Schuldig, whimpering softly. The German still hadn't said a word, nor done anything other than turn to face him. Youji wasn't entirely certain what he should do next. Forcing a confrontation had probably been a stupid thing to do - but he couldn't leave Omi to that bastard's manipulation a minute longer!

From the corner of his eye, he was aware of a couple of beefy security types making their way through the crowd. He was the outsider here, and Schuldig was obviously a well-known and respected member of the community. He had to end this before the guards could take him, or else he'd be forced to fight, which he didn't want to do.

To his surprise, Schuldig lifted one lazy hand and waved the guards away. "It's all right," he drawled in his nasal voice, reassuring the uncertain men. "I'll handle this." Cat-green eyes remained fixed on Youji's, a silent challenge passing between them. One metal-tipped hand dropped to rest possessively on Omi's shoulder, silently proclaiming his ownership over the boy.

Youji gritted his teeth. So it was to be a fight then. Hopefully he'd be able to keep any of the innocent bystanders from being hurt, but he wasn't counting on it. Right hand to his left wrist, he drew forth a length of his wire. The thought that he was breaking cover crossed his mind, but he dismissed it - getting Omi away from the Schwartz member was paramount.

Schuldig's eyes narrowed, and Youji tensed for the lightning-fast strike he knew was coming. Before either of them could move, Omi threw himself bodily between them, arms flung out to his sides in a universal gesture of protection as he shielded the German's lanky frame with his own body. "Youji, NO!"

His hesitation at the possibility of striking his teammate cost him his chance to act - with an audible 'crunch', the wire jammed in the mechanism, refusing to budge another inch. A glance at Nagi showed a tiny breeze ruffling the dark hair - he'd used his powers to subtly prevent the Weiss member from being able to use his weapon. With bare hands, he didn't stand a chance against Schuldig, and they both knew it.

"Omi… get out of the way," he ground out, clenching his fists in determination. Hopeless or not, he wasn't going to just walk away without at least trying to help his young friend.

"No!" Omi shook his head. "I won't let you hurt him because of this!"

Youji's eyes narrowed. "Omi, listen to yourself! He's brainwashed you, like he did Sakura-chan! You HATE this guy, remember?"

Schuldig laughed. "You'd like to think so, wouldn't you, Kudou?" He placed one hand on Omi's shoulder again, the other drawing the now-standing Nagi closer to his side. "Don't they make a pretty pair, though?"

Youji growled. "Let him go! Or so help me, I'll…"

"You'll what?" Schuldig arched a lazy brow. "Beat me up? I think not. You and I both know who would win that confrontation, with or without Nagi and the guards to back me up. Besides…" he trailed a finger along Omi's cheekbone. "Katzchen would never forgive you."

Omi's lower lip was trembling, a sign of suppressed tears, but his gaze was determined. "You'll have to go through me first, Youji," he said, voice firm. "I did this of my own free will."

Youji's doubt of the truth of that particular claim was written all over his face. Schuldig snorted.

"Katzchen… take off the collar."

Omi's head snapped around, his expression turned disbelieving and a little hurt. Youji was painfully reminded of the last time he'd seen that particular expression on the boy - the night he'd harshly thrown him out of his room. "Gebieter?" he whispered, stunned.

"Take off the collar, Katzchen."

The trembling lip was bitten strongly between his teeth, as he struggled for control. "Demo…"

The lambent green gaze narrowed and turned downward, his hand visibly tightening on the boy's shoulder. "Are you questioning my order, Katzchen?" The nasal voice was dangerously low and deceptively calm, anger hiding beneath the surface of his gaze.

Omi shook his head frantically. "N-no… never!" He lifted shaking hands to the back of his neck, slowly drawing the collar with its silver pendant from his throat.

"Give it to me."

"Hai… Gebieter." Eyes lowered, his entire body shuddering, the boy placed the slim leather choker into the outstretched hand. Youji watched as a single tear trickled down one cheek, smearing its way through the glitter that had been dusted onto his face.

Schuldig closed his hand around the delicate necklace, and raised his gaze to Youji's once more. "You're free, Katzchen. I relinquish my claim on you." A choked sob from Omi drew his attention briefly downward once more. He leaned in, and Youji could just barely make out his whisper. "Mustn't let Weiss think I'm brainwashing you, Katzchen." With a gentle shove on the boy's shoulder, he directed him towards Youji. "Go on, go to your friend."

Omi stumbled across the distance between them, head low and one hand pressed tightly against his mouth to stifle his sobs. More tears had joined the first, traveling in fat drops over his creamy skin. "Demo, Geb…" He paused and tried again, forcing the words past the lump in his throat. "We'll never make it to the door," he whispered.

Glancing around them, Youji realized what he meant. Omi was a known sub, and without a collar, he was essentially up for grabs. Other doms were already crowding around them, promising that a fight would be necessary after all, to get them out of the building. Several were eying the band on Youji's own wrist with contempt and anger.

Schuldig raised his voice, the nasal tones echoing through the now-silent room. "They leave unharmed. If anyone touches them, they are challenging me. They're both under my protection."

Youji was irked to have to accept the Schwartz member's protection, but they both knew that he had no choice. He might be able to get them both to the door unharmed, but not without causing a lot of damage that would be difficult to explain to the authorities later.

Grabbing Omi's wrist, he hauled the boy through the path that magically appeared in the crowd, ignoring the grating laughter echoing behind him. Omi was looking back over his shoulder, still tearful but keeping his sobs under control. He made no effort to fight Youji's grip, until they reached the corridor leading to the outside door.

Abruptly he dug in his heels, eyes wide. "Youji!" he hissed a protest. "I can't go outside like this! I'll be arrested!"

Glancing back, Youji realized he was right. The scant leather straps were hardly sufficient to cover him. Presumably Omi had worn something in order to get to the club, but he wasn't about to go back for it. Shrugging out of his own knee-length trench coat, he tossed it at the boy. "Put that on."

Sullenly, Omi obeyed, pulling the oversized jacket closed at the front. It fell nearly to his ankles, but that was all to the good - it covered the stockings and hid everything but the white ankle boots, which were passable. Resuming his grip on the boy's wrist, Youji barrelled out the door.

Luckily his car wasn't far down the street. He spared a brief thought for his date, now stuck without transportation, but he shrugged it off. She'd be fine - she obviously wasn't unfamiliar with the clientele of the bar. Opening the passenger door, he fairly shoved Omi down into the seat, before striding around to the driver's side. Not even bothering with the door, he hopped over the side and plunked down into the seat.

As he pulled away from the curb and headed for busier streets, he took the opportunity to look over at his captive. Omi sat facing the window, his back emphatically turned towards Youji. His arms were crossed over his chest, and Youji had little doubt that he was scowling.

"What the hell did you think you were doing?" he demanded, keeping one eye on the road and the other on his teammate.

Omi was silent, the tension in his back radiating disdain. Youji's eyes narrowed. "For Christ's sake, Omi, that was Schuldig you were letting dom you! What were you THINKING?"

Still nothing. Omi shifted a bit, turning a little farther from Youji. The playboy ground his back teeth together. "YOU'RE mad at ME?" he asked incredulously. "That man is our enemy, Omi! Aya would have had you strung up as a traitor by now, most likely. You're lucky I'm the one that found you."

Silence was his only answer, the atmosphere in the car frosty with contempt. Desperately, Youji tried to appeal to his friend's common sense, knowing it was futile if Schuldig was still in control of the boy's mind. "He KILLED your sister! He's nearly killed you half a dozen times! He's an arrogant, manipulative bastard, and I know there's no way you'd EVER agree to letting him do something like that to you, unless he was controlling you. He…"

"He treats me better than YOU ever have," Omi finally replied, tone bitter and words vicious. Youji was stunned - he'd never heard Omi use such rude language before, not to anyone.

"What…" Youji floundered, helpless in the face of his teammate's anger. Omi had turned to face him now, and his dark blue eyes were filled with anger and something painfully close to hatred.

He gave a brittle little laugh. "What? What did you do to me? Oh, I don't know. HUMILIATING me the night I came to you at the most vulnerable moment in my life was a good start. You could have turned me away with a simple 'no', and I'd have gone willingly. Instead you chose to make it painfully clear that you considered me not worth your while. Mocking me about it every day since then… oh, yes you have!" he cut off the objections before Youji could even form them. "Every time you tease me about looking at porn on the internet, every cute remark you make about giving me the girls under eighteen, every time you even MENTION my age, implying that I'm too young for something…" He paused to draw breath, but Youji found he couldn't find the words to take advantage of the break.

"SIX MONTHS I've tolerated it, smiling and nodding and pretending that nothing was wrong because I didn't want to upset the team unity. Half a YEAR I've let you belittle me in constant, subtle ways, and pretended not to notice. Do you have ANY idea how much you hurt me that night?"

Finally Youji was able to gather his wits. "Omi… I'm sorry. I can never tell you how sorry I am about that… I was harsh, and it was uncalled for. You surprised me, and I reacted without thinking."

Omi shook his head. "If you'd said that the next day, the next week… hell, even the next month, I would have forgiven you. I'd have erased it from my mind, because I was so in love with you that I was willing to overlook almost anything you did wrong." His voice shook with emotion, and he glanced away to stare out the windshield, tears trickling down his cheeks once more. "But six months later? If you felt so bad… why didn't you say anything?"

Youji didn't have an answer for that, but he tried to find one. "Omi… I…"

The boy sighed, and slumped down in his seat, hugging his arms to his chest tightly. "You destroyed my self esteem. I thought I was worthless, that no one would ever want me." His quiet words rocked Youji to the core - he'd had no idea he had hurt the other assassin so badly. "Maybe I over-reacted - probably. But I was so in love with you, and it hurt SO much! Between that and getting my memories back, finding out who I really was… There was hardly anything left. I was just an empty shell, going through the motions of being myself. And I did it so well, I managed to fool everyone into believing that I was okay. Everyone except me."

There was a long moment of silence, before Youji finally worked up the courage to ask the question that had been bothering him all night. "But… why Schuldig? Hell, how did you get involved in this crowd in the first place?"

Omi shrugged, still not moving his gaze from a point on the distant horizon. "After we fought Esstet, I got tired of pretending. I thought I'd go somewhere where everyone else agreed with my estimation of myself. So I went online and found a club in Tokyo that accepted newcomers, and I went."

"Alone?" Youji was horrified. The idea of sweet, innocent Omi walking into such a place alone and unprotected was frightening. He'd seen what could happen to the uninitiated, particularly if they were as beautiful as Omi was.

"Yes, alone." Omi bowed his head, suddenly seeming to find the floor of the car immensely interesting. "And I very nearly got what I deserved for doing something so stupid. But Schuldig was there - he recognized me. And he claimed me, so that the others wouldn't be able to. He's near the top of the local hierarchy, no one messes with him or his pets."

"How many does he have?" It wasn't the most important question he wanted to ask, but it would do for a start. At least Omi was talking to him now, and not yelling at him or ignoring him.

"Just Nagi, until I came along. He didn't even do anything that night - hell, he hauled me out of there so fast, I left skid marks, lecturing me the whole way about how STUPID I'd been to go in there alone." A wan smile flitted across the boy's face at the memory. "It was kind of weird - he was acting like a protective older brother. Sort of the way Aya-kun treats me. And Nagi trailing along behind us both, not saying anything at all…"

"Isn't Nagi just a little young to be passable as over eighteen?" Youji blurted, frowning. Omi could fake an ID and make it pass, despite the fact that he didn't look his age. But Nagi…

Omi shrugged. "If anyone questions it, Schu just fuzzes their memories."

"Schu?" Youji grimaced over the word. It just sounded WRONG to hear Omi giving Schuldig a cute little nickname.

"It's what we call him, when we're not in public. He only really doms us when we're in the clubs, putting on a show. And it's not like he's ever hurt us, or made us do anything we really don't want to. And he KNOWS if there's something that's bothering us, he can feel it. He's even backtracked on his own orders a time or two, when he could tell I wasn't happy with what he'd told me to do. In some ways, he's better than anyone else I could have chosen. With a normal person, I'd have had to follow the order, then wait until later to tell them that I didn't want to do it again. He just knows."

Youji was fighting to reconcile this image of an overprotective Schuldig with the arrogant Schwartz member he knew. He'd been carrying a whip, and those metal claw tips had looked sharp - and yet, he'd never seen Omi come back with an injury. It just didn't make sense. "And it never once occurred to you that you might only be okay with this whole situation because he was fuzzing YOUR memories?"

Omi glared at him. "No! Dammit, he's different when Crawford's not around. And when he's not trying to protect himself by being a wiseass. I'm not denying that he's done awful things in the past, or even that he's doing awful things right now. But he's not doing them to ME. Even Schu has lines he won't cross - rape is one of them. For the love of Kami-sama, Youji, he's a TELEPATH! And when he's in physical contact with someone, he CAN'T block them out. Rape would be every bit as painful for him as his victim!"

"He's never seemed to mind causing pain and anguish in the past," Youji replied. "He tortured you and Ouka easily enough. And what he made Sakura-chan do to Aya…"

Omi shook his head. "That's different. He likes to play with people's heads, make them afraid of him and hurt them, yes. It's the only way he can tell where their thoughts stop, and his start!"

Youji blinked. He'd never considered the ramifications of the telepath's power in that sort of light before. He'd always just assumed that it was something the German could turn on and off at will. Apparently his thoughts showed in his face, for Omi continued, "I've seen him get lost, when other people's thoughts or emotions were too strong for him to block out. He woke up screaming and babbling in Russian once, when there was a car accident involving some tourists just down the block. He doesn't even speak Russian. It took Nagi and me nearly twenty minutes to bring him back to himself."

"But… it wouldn't be painful for him, if he just convinced you that you wanted it, first. Right?"

Omi sighed. "It doesn't work like that. Think about Sakura-chan and Aya-kun. He could control her, force her body to aim the gun and pull the trigger. But she was crying the whole time - he couldn't make her WANT to do it. Oh, sure, he probably could alter someone's thoughts permanently after a long enough period of time. But it would take weeks, maybe months, depending on how strong willed they were."

"But Omi… WHY did you go with him? Why did you go BACK to him?"

"Because he makes me feel special," Omi replied, his voice so quiet that Youji almost didn't hear him. "Wanted. Cared for. And yes, I believe he does care about me, in his own way. The way he cares about Nagi. Why else would he have saved me, protected me, convinced me that I was worth something again?" Again the soft smile of remembrance. "The truth is, he's got a soft spot a mile wide for hurt things. He'd never admit it, not even to himself, but he does. Me, Nagi, the half a dozen stray cats he feeds on a regular basis…"

Youji found the image of the sarcastic German surrounded by mewling tabbies to be rather bizarre. He had to chuckle.

"He's been where I was," Omi continued, biting his lip. "When he was a teenager, on the streets. He told me once, when he was feeling particularly vulnerable one night, that he'd had a dom who kept him under lock and key for most of a year. Literally. When he was finally free, he swore that he'd never treat his pets as badly as he was treated."

"Why keep pets at all, if he's so against it?"

Omi chuckled. "Are you kidding me? He gets off on the power trip, make no mistake about it. It's the same reason he loves playing with people's minds so much. It gives him a feeling of control, something he'd never had in his life before. Besides…" his expression turned sad. "Nagi's broken. Badly. I'm not sure he'd be able to function without a Master… he just doesn't know any other way to live. If not Schu, he'd have found someone else. And odds are, they wouldn't have treated him nearly as well as Schu does. Hell, he's helping Nagi, really. At least now he's willing to indicate if he doesn't want to do something, rather than blindly follow any order, no matter how distasteful."

Youji turned that over in his mind for a while. They pulled up to the Koneko before he'd reached a decision, and he remained silent as they made their way up the stairs. He paused outside the doors to their apartment. Omi wasn't looking at him like he hated him anymore, but… "Omi… are you still willing to talk to me? There are still things I'd like to know."

Omi gave him a faintly painful look. "Ah. Just… let me change, please? Before I do any more damage walking around like this? I'm going to be sore for weeks as it is…"

Abruptly Youji remembered the conclusion he'd drawn at the club, about the dual nature of the harness. His eyes widened. "Ah… gomen! I wasn't thinking about anything other than getting you out of there as quickly as possible!" He winced in sympathy. Being hauled along at a half-running pace with something shoved up your ass could NOT be a pleasant experience.

Omi shook his head. "It's okay, Youji. I'll meet you in your room in five minutes, okay?" Slipping inside his own apartment, he shut the door behind him.

Youji opened his own door, leaving it unlocked as he made his way to the couch. Flopping down on it, he considered everything Omi had told him so far. He had to admit, it didn't seem as though the telepath was controlling his young friend's thoughts, at least not in the way that he'd feared. After he himself had hurt Omi so badly… who was he to take him away from someone who made him feel special again? Gods only knew Omi deserved to feel that way. And it was Youji's own fault that it had come to something this drastic. Hell, he should be thanking the German for keeping the boy out of really serious trouble!

Omi knocked on the door once, then entered, now wearing jeans and a t-shirt. His face was rosy from scrubbing, the glitter washed off. He was moving a little awkwardly, as though walking normally took an effort, but his face was clear of pain. He had Youji's trench coat slung over one arm, and he hung it up by the door.

"Omittchi…" Youji used the nickname he'd coined for his teammate so long ago, when he'd first joined Weiss. Omi looked up at him, surprised. Youji hadn't used that name since the night Omi had come to him.

"I'm sorry. You'll never know just how sorry I am at what I did to you. Everything I've done in the last six months has been aimed at trying to drive the memory of your tears out of my mind. But you seemed fine, like you'd gotten over it… so I thought I'd leave well enough alone, and not say anything if you didn't. I was a coward, and I admit it.

Omi's eyes had softened considerably. "Youji…"

"I'm not finished," Youji said, holding up a hand. "Omi… I also want to apologize for hauling you out of there tonight. It obviously hurt you to give up that collar. If he makes you feel special… then you should be with him." He nodded at the surprise in the boy's eyes. "I won't object - and I won't tell the others. Hell, I'll even help you hide it from them, if you want. It's the least I can do, to start making up for the way I hurt you."

"I… I'm not sure he'll take me back," Omi replied, tears forming again as he looked down at the floor. "He's not answering me, and I can't feel him in the back of my mind anymore. He really meant it when he said he was giving up his claim on me." Seeing the shock on Youji's face, he hastily added, "He doesn't get any information from me! Honest! It's not that he's constantly READING my mind, just that he's touching it, so that he can hear if I call for him. We both agreed from the start to keep missions a separate issue from our relationship, and not to take advantage. And he hasn't. There have been plenty of times when he obviously hasn't known something important, that he easily could have picked out of my head if he'd wanted to."

Youji shrugged. "It's not as if he couldn't pick it out of any of our heads, if he really wanted to. Sit down, Omi, please?"

Gingerly, Omi lowered himself to the couch, shifting until he managed to find a comfortable position to sit in. "At least tell me that you don't hate me for what I did," Youji practically begged him. "Not that I don't deserve it, but…"

"I don't hate you, Youji-kun," Omi replied, and Youji had never been so relieved to hear an honourific attached to his name in his life. "I could never hate you, not really. Not even when I tried."

Youji breathed a deep sigh of relief. "All right. I can't imagine that Schuldig would blame you for what I did tonight. We'll find a way to get you back together with him, I promise."

"I may not be able to," Omi said, shaking his head. "He gave up claim to me publicly, made me take my collar off and give it back to him. Even if I wore it again, tonight would weaken his claim on me, and he'd have to do a lot of fighting to keep me. He may not think it's worth it."

"You're worth it, Omittchi," Youji said, tone firm. "One way or another, we'll work this out, I promise. And, I promise I won't ever tease you about those things again. Your friendship means a lot to me, ki… Omi." He hastily changed the 'kiddo' he'd been about to say. At Omi's frown, he said, "Hey, it'll take me awhile to change my habits. But I will, I promise. And I really don't think of you as a kid. You've been through too much."

"Hontou ni?" Omi eyed him suspiciously. Youji nodded, and he sighed. "Okay. I forgive you… providing you keep your promise." Standing with a small wince, he made his way to the door. "I'm exhausted, mentally and physically."

"Aa." Youji stood as well, stretching. "I'll see you in the morning, Omi. And we'll start work on patching things up between us."

In the doorway, Omi paused, looking back at Youji with shadowed eyes. "Youji-kun… can I ask you something?"

"Aa. Anything." Youji was more than willing to open up to him, after everything Omi had revealed to him that night.

"When you threw me out… was it because you weren't attracted to ME, or just not attracted to boys?"

Youji flushed and cursed inwardly, but he'd promised himself that he would answer whatever question Omi had honestly. "It was because I was startled and a little frightened, Omittchi. It really had nothing to do with either of those things."

"Sou ka. Ja, oyasumi." The door clicked shut behind him, and Youji gave a heartfelt sigh.

"I need a shower," He decided, and trudged to his bathroom. A good long soak in the pounding hot water would help him clear his mind, surely. Stripping on his way there, he turned the hot water up as far as it would go and stepped into the spray.

Leaning against the wall as he let the shower loosen the knots in his back, he contemplated everything he'd learned tonight. The thought of Schuldig protecting Omi was still a strange one, and yet… looking back on it, there had been something in the German's expression, both when he'd laid a hand possessively on Omi's shoulder, and when he told him to give back the collar. Youji would never have credited it if he hadn't seen it himself, but there had indeed been real warmth and caring in those cat-green eyes.

He shuddered to imagine what might have… no, what WOULD have… happened to Omi if the telepath hadn't interfered that first night. There were many, many BDSM clubs that were aboveground and 'civilized', who would never allow a new person to be harmed or molested in any way. They had stringent rules of conduct, including a rule that no submissive had to follow the orders of anyone but THEIR chosen master, regardless of whether or not they were claimed.

But there were the other kind, that didn't have those kind of safe rules. Who weren't so much concerned with protecting the subs, as asserting their own dominance over everyone and everything in sight. That was the kind of club they'd been at tonight, and it was likely the kind of club Omi had wandered into. Without the German's protection, he'd have been eaten alive.

Youji realized that he'd been in the shower long enough to start to wrinkle, and he shut off the water. Stepping out, he snagged a towel and briskly dried himself off, before wrapping it around his waist. No sense in getting dressed again, since he was just going to be getting into bed. It's not as if there were anyone around to see him like this.

Padding down the short hallway, he paused with his hand on the knob of his door, frowning. There was a flickering orange glow coming from beneath the door. He knew he hadn't left any candles burning when he'd left…

Eyes wide and heart hammering in his ears, he slowly shoved the door open. The sight before him took his breath away, hitting him with an unbelievable wave of déjà vu.

The satin cover of his king-sized bed had been turned down invitingly, revealing the dark silk sheets beneath. Candles were clustered on every available free surface, their flickering light gleaming off the silk, the satin… and smooth golden skin.

Omi was sprawled out in exactly the same position he'd occupied six months before, half on his stomach with his torso twisted to face the door. His eyes opened as he heard the door open, and Youji could see his nervousness in the tension of his muscles.

"Youji…" the boy's voice was husky, with fear or desire or a combination of both. "I… I thought maybe…" his voice hitched briefly. "Maybe we could try starting over." He sat up, posture open and vulnerable, offering himself once more.

Youji's brain raced frantically, but he couldn't get anything to come out of his mouth. Internally he cursed himself. How many times had he dreamed of this? Fantasized about getting a second chance, an opportunity to do it again, the RIGHT way this time? And here it was, live and in the flesh… and he was gaping like an idiot.

Omi's face fell as the seconds ticked by with no answer from his teammate, and the tears welled up once more. "You… you don't have to," he said quietly, voice breaking slightly as he turned his face to the side, unable to look Youji in the eyes any more. "You can even throw me out again, if you want to. I just… I wanted you to know, that I'm willing to forgive you. To try again. If you are."

"Omi…" Youji's voice sounded rusty in his own ears, and he cleared his throat, taking a wobbly step forward. "Omittchi… I'm not going to throw you out. But are you really sure this is what you want? I hurt you so badly. And you're with Schuldig now. Surely you've gotten over me?"

Omi shook his head. "Iie. Never. I never did. I just buried it, because I knew that I'd never have a chance with you again. And I was hurt. Am hurt. But I believe now, that you didn't mean to hurt me like that. And I trust you not to do it again."

Trust. That was what the whole issue really came down to, Youji realized. Whether Omi could trust him not to hurt him again… and whether Youji could trust himself to love again. When Asuka had died, he'd sworn never to fall in love again… and Noi's death had only reinforced that. And yet… here was perfection, wrapped up in the package of one bright, cheerful, loving boy - no, young man - and it was being offered to him. "I don't deserve your trust, Omi," he said, taking more steps to bring him to the side of the bed. Reaching out, he cupped Omi's chin in gentle fingers, turning his face back up. "What I did to you was inexcusable. But I promise you, I'll make it right. I have to - because I love you too much to ever hurt you again."

Omi's eyes widened, sparkling through the layer of tears. "Yo-youji?" He hiccupped, still uncertain. Youji leaned down and kissed him, softly.

"I love you, bishounen. Always have. That's what scared me so very badly. I'd never BEEN attracted to a man before you, Omittchi. And you were young - yes, I know I promised not to mention it again, but it's what I thought. On top of that - I'd never been anyone's first before. I make it a point not to bed virgins. First times are meant to be special, with someone you love."

"I love you," Omi replied, rubbing his cheek against Youji's hand. His face was open and guileless, emotions plain for the world to see.

"I'm so glad you're you, Omittchi. Anyone else would never be able to forgive me for what I did, much less love me again. But then again… if you weren't you, I wouldn't be so damned in love with you."

"Youji… I can't offer you my first again," he whispered, voice low. "I wish I could. Not that I regret what I did… but I would have liked it to be you. But… will you teach me what it's like, between equals? Between two people who love each other?"

"Ah." Youji sat on the bed and gathered the boy - his boy - into his arms. "Everything I know, bishounen." He leaned in and kissed him passionately.

"Mmmm…" Omi drew back for breath, face dreamy. "I like it when you call me that."

"Call you what?"

"Bishounen. I should probably be upset that you're calling me underage again… but there's so much love in your voice when you say it, that I can't take offense. It feels too good."

"I'm glad, koi. Now, why don't you show me some of what you learned with Schuldig and Nagi, so I won't be repeating lessons?" Youji asked playfully.

Omi gave him a wicked grin, astonishing him. He hadn't thought Omi's innocent looking face was capable of such an expression. "Anything you like," he replied, and ducked his head.

Youji drew in a deep breath as his nipples were attacked mercilessly, lips and teeth and tongue and fingers all doing their best to drive him out of his mind. He'd always been sensitive there, but Omi was biting and nibbling just hard enough to sensitize the skin, not quite hard enough to hurt. It made the licks and fingertip touches that followed the bites nearly unbearable.

He fell back against the cool sheets, Omi following him down and straddling his waist. He extended the area he was covering to include the skin between the upright nipples, sucking and licking and nibbling expertly. Youji gave a soft moan as one hand delicately traced its way over his abs, not quite tickling in the most delicious way.

"Feel good?" Omi asked with a husky voice, circling his navel lazily. Youji hissed and arched up as the boy rocked backwards with his hips, brushing his bottom over the older man's towel-covered erection.

"You know it does," Youji replied breathlessly. He rocked upwards again, moaning helplessly at the delicious friction.

"You're wearing too much," Omi returned playfully. "It's making me feel underdressed." He rose up until he was kneeling over Youji, and the only parts of their body touching were his knees at Youji's sides. The playboy made a distressed sound in his throat at the loss of contact, and Omi chuckled.

"Towel off, then I'll sit down again," he promised softly. Youji lost no time in shedding the restrictive towel, leaving them bare to each other at last. Omi sank down onto him again, eyes closed in anticipation.

The look on Omi's face as their bodies came into contact once more was sheer pleasure, nothing more and nothing less. He gave an abrupt little sigh, as though the air in his lungs had been forced out, and opened blue eyes to stare down at him with an expression of pure lust.

"Gods, I've dreamed of this for so long," he whispered sultrily, rocking slightly against Youji's erection. "So many nights in bed, knowing you were just one thin wall away… so many days in the flower shop, when we were alone, fantasizing about doing this…"

"In the flower shop?" Youji teased, glad to hear that his voice didn't come out as shaky as he'd thought it would. He still had SOME control, at least. "In daylight? You ARE a little exhibitionist, aren't you?" Gripping Omi's hips with his hands to hold him in place, he thrust gently against the boy's ass, making them both moan.

"Did you think of me tumbling you across the table, thrusting into you so hard it shook until we both were afraid it would collapse under us?" Omi moaned again, louder, and his eyes slid closed as though he were picturing it. "Or maybe up against the wall in the greenhouse, surrounded by the flowers, with the others just a few feet away in the front of the shop, knowing they might come back at any time?" Youji continued, voice growing huskier with every word. Omi was shivering above him, body reacting to the images in an unmistakable way. "What would you have done if they'd walked in on us, bishounen?"

"Ahhhh…" Omi threw his head back as one of Youji's hands left its perch to fist over his erection. "Let them watch, most likely," he whispered. "I… ah, don't stop!… I'd love to see the looks on their faces…"

Youji couldn't help but chuckle. "It would be interesting," he agreed. "Maybe they'd finally catch a clue, and stop mooning over each other."

Omi gasped and thrust into his hand. "You noticed that, huh?" Raising one hand, he toyed with his own nipples, the sight fascinating to Youji. The other reached behind him to close around the older man's erection. Youji choked and thrust up. "They're cute though, chasing each other around like that. Schu says… oh!… he says they don't even realize the other one's interested at all."

Youji felt a sudden jealous urge to erase the name 'Schuldig' from Omi's thoughts entirely, to drive the memory of the tall German out of his mind. He abandoned his teasing thrusts to drive hard against his boy's ass, speeding up his strokes over the hot shaft in his fists. Omi cried out, writhing against him, shoving back to feel more of Youji against him.

"Playtime's over, Omittchi," he growled, hand falling away from the boy's erection, drawing a protesting moan from deep in Omi's throat. "Bedside table drawer. Can you reach it? There's massage oil in there."

Omi leaned over him to reach the drawer, presenting a tempting landscape of smooth chest. Youji didn't even try to resist, leaning up slightly to drag his tongue over the silky skin. Omi tasted sweet and salty and everything in between, and the choked little sigh he made when Youji rolled his nipple over his tongue was pure heaven to his ears.

"Oh… Youji…" Omi shivered above him, resting his weight on the hand propped on the mattress just above Youji's shoulder. "Gods, I can't concentrate when you do that!"

"Good," Youji growled in reply, licking at the sweat-sheened expanse once more. "Because gods know I can never concentrate when you're around at all."

Fumbling with the drawer, Omi finally managed to retrieve the small bottle of lotion, trembling hands nearly spilling the contents as he wrestled with the cap. "You want to do the honours, or shall I?" Youji asked him, fighting to hold still as his body tightened in anticipation.

Sliding off to sit beside him, Omi gave him a cheeky grin as he poured a healthy amount into the palm of his hand. "I'll do it," he said, a secretive smile replacing the broader grin.

"What…" Youji's eyes widened in shock as Omi tipped the handful of liquid into his mouth. "What are you…?"

His question was answered as Omi ducked his head once more, soft lips wrapping around the length of his erection. "Oh, gods…" the feel of Omi's nimble tongue spreading the oil over the sensitive flesh was almost too much. Lips, tongue, and even an occasional gently scraping tooth slid over and around him, working the lotion into his skin until it covered every inch. Finally he lifted his head, eyes shining.

"Ah… that CAN'T taste good," Youji observed, still struggling to beat down the waves of ecstasy. Omi chuckled.

"It's not so bad," he replied, slipping back into place over Youji's hips. "And hearing the noises you make are worth it." He started to rock backward onto Youji's erection, one hand guiding the stiff shaft to his opening.

"You're… ah!… Omi, you're not prepared…" Youji protested, hands gripping Omi's hips again to stop his movement.

"I don't need it," he whispered back, rocking his hips in little circles. "Not after running around in that harness all night."

Youji's eyes widened. Shit! He'd forgotten about that! "Omi, you're sore. We can do this some other time... I don't want to hurt you!"

"I'll live, Youji, now will you please just shut up and TAKE me!" A particularly forceful thrust back impaled the first inch of Youji's erection into his body, and suddenly all the objections the older man had were swept away.

"Oh, gods, Omi!" he cried out, shifting his grip and thrusting upwards. Omi made a choked noise and thrust back against him, face filled with pleasure and more than a little pain.

"Don't stop!" he exclaimed as he saw that Youji was on the verge of hesitating. "I'll be fine, just please, don't stop! Youji, I need you!"

If there was anyone alive who could resist such a passionate plea, it certainly wasn't Youji. He abandoned himself to the age-old rhythm, letting Omi set the pace from above, while he controlled the force from below. It had been far too long since he'd last bedded someone - or been bedded, for that matter - and he knew he wasn't going to last long. He fisted Omi's erection once more, sliding up and down the hard shaft in time to their thrusts.

He was still almost afraid he'd leave his young lover unsatisfied, but just when he feared he could hold out no longer, Omi arched his back above him and ground down, white liquid spurting forth over Youji's hands in time with their thrusts. His inner muscles clamped down hard, and Youji found himself suddenly unable to move, hovering on the brink of orgasm, trapped deep within his lover's body.

Trembling, Omi glanced down at him with that wicked smile, and Youji knew he was doing it on purpose. The older man's breaths were ragged and fast, his body straining for completion, and the little imp wasn't letting him move! "Omi..." he gasped, half pleading, half threatening.

"Don't worry, Yo-tan," he murmured throatily, voice reverberating through Youji's chest. "I won't leave you hanging forever." Eyes at half-mast, he threw his head back and tensed.

The tight walls of his passage rippled, clenching and releasing around Youji's throbbing erection. It was incredible, and it was too much - with a strangled cry, Youji reached completion, emptying what felt like his entire soul into the boy's body.

The feeling was so intense, so perfect, that he lost track of reality for a few moments. When he drifted back into the real world, he found Omi leaning on his chest with his elbows, chin propped in his hands, watching him intently. Youji blinked.

"What?"

"I love you," Omi replied softly, sweetly. "Promise you won't leave me alone again?"

"Never," the older man swore fiercely, wrapping strong arms around the slender torso and pulling him down so they were chest to chest. They were still connected at the most intimate level, but Youji was softening rapidly, and he knew it wouldn't last. "I'll never leave you alone, I promise."

Omi sighed and leaned his head against Youji's shoulder, resting there contentedly for several long minutes. They lay in silence, basking in the afterglow, for what seemed a small eternity.

Finally Omi stretched against him and sat up, grimacing as their bodies separated with a wet sucking sound. "Ew. I don't know about you, but I certainly don't like sleeping in the mess." He smiled down at Youji, who shook his head. "Somehow I just don't find it romantic to wake up plastered together with body fluids, you know?" Sliding off the bed, he padded for the door. "I'll grab a damp cloth from the bathroom, and we can clean up and go to sleep." He paused in the doorway, hesitant, and looked back over his shoulder. "It IS okay if I sleep here, isn't it?"

"Of course," Youji replied, stretching lazily. "I'm certainly not going to YOUR apartment. Your bed is tiny. Although..." he paused as if considering. "That does present interesting possibilities of its own..."

Omi giggled and shook his head. "Youji, you're incorrigible. And I love you for it." He continued out the door towards the bathroom, quickly leaving Youji's line of sight.

The older assassin luxuriated in the feel of his silk sheets against his skin, breathing deeply of the scent of Omi and sex that had become embedded in the fabric. The sticky mess on his stomach was easily ignored for the moment, and he wallowed in the lazy contentment sex always left him with.

 _*Glad you enjoyed what I taught him,*_ the thought slid into his mind, echoing in a strange way with an alien _feel. *He certainly enjoyed learning it.*_

Youji's eyes opened wide, and he growled. "Schuldig," he said aloud, knowing the German would pick his response from his mind.

_*Ah, ah, ah. You sound ungrateful, Weiss. It's your own fault you didn't get him first.*_

He couldn't help but wince at the truth of the accusation. "Well, you're not having him any more!"

_*Wouldn't dream of it. I hate sloppy seconds. And people that much in love are boring. They never think of anything but their lover.*_

Youji wasn't entirely certain what to say to that, so he switched topics. "You'd better not just leave him hanging like that," he said fiercely. "He's worried that you hate him, since you won't talk to him now."

Schuldig laughed, the sound grating against his mind with a feeling like a million spiders crawling around inside his skull. Youji shivered, rubbing at his temples in a futile attempt to rid himself of the sensation. _*So generous! You'd let me talk to him at all? I was expecting you to order me never to have anything to do with him again.*_

He grimaced. "He cares about you. You were his first, and you rescued him on top of that. He's enough of a romantic for that to make a big deal."

 _*Nothing I could do could possibly compare to the way you hurt him,*_ Schuldig purred at him. _*You nearly destroyed him, you know. He loves you that much. It took me a long time to get him to believe that it wasn't something that was inherently wrong with him that made you turn him away.*_

Youji frowned, puzzled. "Why did you bother? It can only be to Schwartz's advantage if one of us is hurt in any way."

 _*You're amusing, Weiss, all of you. You entertain us endlessly with your scrambling attempts to bring justice to the world. And I AM a manipulative bastard, who just happens to love a challenge. Katzchen was nothing if not a challenge.*_ There was a warm brush of feeling along the edge of Youji's senses, a sort of tender affection, coupled with an image of Omi as he looked when asleep - sweet and innocent, untouched by the horror of their lives. He had the strange feeling Schuldig had not meant to let him see that.

 _*Saa... I must be losing my touch, if you're picking that much up from me.*_ The German's mental voice was now laced with equal parts amusement and affection. _*No sense in trying to hide it, I suppose. I admit it - I have a soft spot for him. Besides...*_ He gave a sort of mental shrug. _*Nagi likes him, and it isn't often Liebchen expresses interest in someone. He's the one who asked me to save Katzchen in the first place. So keep in mind...*_ A wintery brush of malice touched his mind. _*If you ever hurt him again, in any way... we'll be MORE than happy to take him off your hands. Permanently. Better treat him right this time, Weiss.*_

"Believe me, I intend to," Youji replied, his voice fervent.

 _*Sou?*_ Schuldig sounded amused. _*I guess we'll see you the next time Weiss and Schwartz cross paths, then. Don't expect us to go easy on you. Or at least, not any easier than we usually do.*_ He laughed again. _*And remember, I'll be watching.*_

The sense of weight in his mind faded as Schuldig withdrew, and Youji glanced up to see Omi standing in the doorway, damp cloth in one hand, expression uncertain.

"Youji-kun?"

Youji shrugged and sat up, reaching out towards him. Omi came forward willingly, allowing himself to be wrapped up in a tight hug. "Just a warning that if I didn't treat you right, I wasn't going to get a third chance," Youji whispered in his ear.

"Ah. Schuldig said." Youji arched a brow, and he shrugged. "He can carry on more than one conversation at a time, if he wants to. Are you... are you mad?"

"Mad? At who?"

"I don't know. Me, for being with him. Him, for taking advantage of me. Both of us, for whatever reason."

Youji rubbed his back reassuringly, taking the cloth from him and gently cleaning them both off. "No, I'm not mad. Not at either of you. He does care about you, in a weird sort of way. And I'm glad he was there when you needed someone. You..." he hesitated, then continued slowly, "I won't be able to do that stuff, the sort of things he did with you. Domming just isn't my style. If... if you need that sort of thing... I don't mind if you and he..."

"Shhh," Omi placed gentle fingers on his lips to still the flow of words. His deep blue eyes shone down with love. "I don't need it. It was fun for a while, and a good way to distract myself, but you're everything I need. Always."

Dropping the cloth to the floor, he drew his boy down onto the sheets again, cradling him against his chest. Omi curled up against him, one hand flattened on his stomach, one leg thrown over his thigh, head cuddled in the hollow between his neck and shoulder.

"I love you, bishounen," Youji whispered, drawing the top sheet over them both. Omi sighed contentedly, snuggling a little closer, and closed his eyes. Youji followed suit, feeling the lethargy in his body rapidly translating itself to sleep. "Always and forever. Sleep well, koi."

Their breaths mingled as their bodies had earlier, souls wrapping tightly around each other as they drifted into the pleasant dreams of those who know they are loved.


End file.
